


greek gods and sweater hugs

by krizzlesandblues



Series: watch me get closer, closer—until i’m just into you [1]
Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, bless jinwoo's sweaters, probably, with brief mentions of greek mythology, yes i'm back on the fluff business
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 21:17:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21308743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krizzlesandblues/pseuds/krizzlesandblues
Summary: Seunghoon prays he could shut off his brain for a second, because seriously—Jinwoo’s—aka his nerd of a seatmate—is messing with his brain and his Greek Mythology essay.
Relationships: Kang Seungyoon/Song Minho | Mino, Kim Jinwoo/Lee Seunghoon
Series: watch me get closer, closer—until i’m just into you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545739
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	greek gods and sweater hugs

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is briefly inspired by all this pictures of jinwoo in sweaters and round glasses. this is the second time jinwoo’s pictures become my prompt for a sudden fic LOL

Ten minutes. Ten goddamn minutes.

Ten goddamn minutes before Lee Seunghoon’s life shatters all because of a late alarm and a freaking quiz on Greek Mythology—

Thankfully, in eight minutes he manages to dash on his building’s corridors, in a minute he gets to sit on a—thankfully—empty chair, and a minute to gather his bearings and catch his breath.

And a second to realize that he’s probably sitting on the wrong seat, because who the _hell_ is this nerd of a seatmate with the plainest of purple sweaters—

But Seunghoon doesn’t get to think more about it. He has to remember first which one Odysseus met first—if it was Circe or Calypso, as per the first quiz question.

-

“I thought you wouldn’t come today,” Minho chuckles lightly as he joins him for lunch. “Not until I saw you sprinting for your life inside the room. Be thankful Professor Kim didn’t catch you.”

“Shut up,” Seunghoon says without bite. “I thought I was gonna get screwed. But I think I sat on the wrong seat.”

“Wrong seat? I don’t see anything wrong with it,” Minho’s eyebrows knit in confusion.

“Minho, I don’t recognize who the hell was my seatmate earlier.”

Now Minho stares at him wide-eyed, as if what he’d uttered was some sort of a blunder. “Pardon?” he says after a long moment.

“Pardon—what?” 

“Hyung.” Minho says slowly. “You don’t know your own seatmate? _Seriously?!_”

“Song Minho, for the love of your aliens, I never met that guy until today.”

Minho’s face is a comical expression of incredulity—something that he’d probably snap a picture of for blackmailing purposes, but he’s too perplexed by this person’s reactions.

“Hyung. That’s Kim Jinwoo. He’s a senior like you,” Minho finally says after a long moment. “And no, I believe you weren’t in your wrong seat. You usually sit in the middle, right?”

Kim Jin—who?

And what’s with the tone of reverence in Minho’s voice when he uttered Kim Jinwoo’s name?

“I really don’t know him, Minho,” Seunghoon tells him. “Also, I do sit in the middle—but not in that seat.”

“To hell with your seating arrangement, hyung,” Minho rubs his face in frustration—sort of. “But, wow. I can’t believe you don’t know him, hyung. Well, I guess famous people don’t know their fellows.”

Seunghoon knits his eyebrows, perplexed. “Minho, please, enough of your wordplays and shit. What are you talking about?”

“Hyung,” he huffs. “He’s pretty famous. Soccer player, A-lister like Seungyoon, sometimes models for some school paraphernalia—and did I mention he’s too good-looking for his own good?”

Seunghoon tries to remember his seatmate’s—Kim Jinwoo—face, but all that comes into his mind is a large pair of specs and a plain purple sweater. And too-pale skin.

“Minho, I really don’t know him, period,” Seunghoon declares, stealing a tortilla chip. “And please, stop mentioning Kang Seungyoon’s name in this conversation—we get it, you’re _whipped._”

Minho subtly gives him a middle finger. 

-

In the next few days that follow, Seunghoon begins to notice more of this Kim Jinwoo. He sees girls literally fawning over his smiles, detects guys getting pissed and grudgingly in awe of his good looks. He notes how Kim Jinwoo takes his notes, highlighting some of his writings with a blue highlighter; how he tends to brush a wayward lock of his hair when he looks down; and how, sometimes, greets Seunghoon with a small, timid smile when he sits on that chair.

How he looks cute even with his large glasses a little askew.

-

“You seriously need to work on that essay, hyung,” Minho laughingly remarks as Seunghoon thumps his head against his tabletop. “It’s due in, like, a week or so? You know how crappy awful your crammed essays are.”

“Shut up,” the older grumbles, rubbing his shaved head in irritation, then looks up. “And please speak for yourself, Song Minho. You aren’t good in essays, either!”

A Cheshire cat grin appears in Minho’s face, looking oddly creepy. “Well, I am—but I got some help.”

This isn’t boding well. “From whom?

The grin widens. “From Kang Seungyoon, of course.”

“Huh,” Seunghoon snorts in disbelief. “No shit, Minho.”

“I’m serious,” he shrugs, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“You slick bastard—how in the mothership were you able to muster your courage to even ask him, let alone come near him?”

“Well,” Mino’s small lips curve into a smug smirk, “Apparently, he needed a good illustrator for a project he’s working on, and he can’t find one willing enough to help. And since I’m one willing illustrator”—Seunghoon feels the urge to punch that annoying smirk off his face—“I volunteered for help, in exchange for his help in my essay. Problem solved.”

“Wow—you’re damn smooth,” Seunghoon snickers. “Talk about hitting two birds in one stone.”

Minho grins smugly.

“Oh—why don’t you ask help from your seatmate, hyung?” Minho suddenly suggests, snapping his fingers. “I told you he’s also an A-lister, right?”

“Am I not an A-lister myself?” Seunghoon gripes.

“Well—er, yeah, you are, but you and essays isn’t exactly a good combination,” Minho points out.

Ugh. Right.

“And what if he doesn’t wanna?” Seunghoon mutters, rolling his eyes then picking up his Mythology book.

“Well, that’s your problem, not mine,” the younger man shrugs dismissively.

“Thanks, Minho.”

“Besides, this is a good chance for you to know more about him, or get closer,” Minho continues, ignoring the older’s dripping sarcasm. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your growing fixation on him, hyung.”

This time, it’s Seunghoon who shows him the finger.

-

After class, Seunghoon musters all his courage to ask Kim Jinwoo for help—which he does by a slight grip to his tweed-sleeved arm. 

“Um, uh, hi,” Seunghoon starts awkwardly, kicking himself mentally for not sounding so confident. “Can I, uh, ask for something?”

Kim Jinwoo blinks, his wide pretty eyes looking straight at his small ones. “What is it?”

For such a delicate-looking man, he has a surprisingly deep voice.

“Uh, I really am—er, I mean, my essay isn’t going good—no, wait,” Seunghoon stammers, feeling a flush crawling up his neck then to his ears. Since when in the holy god of panic did he become all flustered?

Jinwoo waits patiently as Seunghoon collect his thoughts.

“I mean, I need help in my essay,” Seunghoon finally says, looking down in embarrassment. “I really don’t understand the topic given to us, and I was wondering if you could help me.”

A long moment of silence passes through them, and Seunghoon wonders what Kim Jinwoo’s possibly thinking. Well, it’s something new and unexpected, considering that Seunghoon’s not really chatty with anyone except with his teammates or with Minho—

“Sure,” Jinwoo’s bright voice pulls him away from his thoughts, and Seunghoon looks up in surprise. For real—?

“I mean, I also need a little help with mine, too,” Jinwoo says with a small laugh. “You seem to understand the Odyssey, anyway…so how about it?”

Unthinkingly, Seunghoon grabs both of Jinwoo’s hands and shakes them exaggeratedly. “Thank you—thank you! And I’ll help you, promise.”

Jinwoo’s answering smile is blinding, his hands within his surprisingly soft yet firm.

_Is this what it feels like to be smiled upon by Apollo—_

-

“So, uh, he really met Circe first before Calypso?” Jinwoo scratched his head, pursing his lips. “Because Odysseus and his fleet landed there—ugh, there goes my quiz.”

Seunghoon laughs lightly in sympathy. “That’s fine. I forgot the place they went first before they passed through the Sirens.”

“Erebus,” Jinwoo mumbles, but continues writing anyway.

After a moment of reading Seunghoon groans, “Seriously, Paris. How stupid—why did he choose Aphrodite instead of Athena? Or Hera? Ugh—it’s because of him I’m crawling my annoying essay about Trojan War!”

Jinwoo chortles. “Well, Paris is quite the chicken—and shallow, for me. But let’s try to look at it on the other side—why would some people prefer to have someone beautiful with them for the rest of their lives?”

“Some sort of an eye-candy?” Seunghoon tries, a little uneasily.

A hint of sadness crosses Jinwoo’s features before he smooths it with a smile. “Probably. And, anyway—it’s not as if Helen stayed with Paris for a long time, as she went back to Menelaus.”

“That’s true,” Seunghoon mumbles, going back to his reading.

\- 

That night, Seunghoon googles all images of the gods involved in the Trojan War. For some reason, an errant illustration of Apollo catches his eye, and his smile reminded Seunghoon of how Jinwoo smiled warmly at him when he bought him a club sandwich.

Seunghoon can’t help wondering if it was possible that Greek gods were real, visiting the mortal realm in the form of handsome creatures—like Jinwoo.

-

He and Jinwoo spend more days together in the library, sharing bits about themselves more than about their respective essays. Seunghoon learns that Jinwoo is really a member of the school’s soccer team, although he mostly plays for national tournaments. He learns that Jinwoo prefers seafood than vegetables, cats than dogs, function over fashion—

—that, and he looks so good in that cream blazer over a shirt. 

“You aren’t part now of the varsity team?” Jinwoo wonders in confusion. “But why? You’re so good at that sport, though.”

Seunghoon ignores the suspicious flutter in his chest when Jinwoo mentioned that.

“Well, it’s mostly because of Minho,” Seunghoon explains. “Something happened to him a few years back, and I can’t just ignore him. In order to make sure nothing’s gonna hurt him again, I quit the varsity so I can focus on school—and Minho’s wellbeing.”

Thankfully, Jinwoo noticed Seunghoon’s tone—that he wished not to speak further of it except for the tip of the iceberg. “He seems well now, though,” Jinwoo tells him, smiling warmly. “His drawings are astounding, by the way.”

Seunghoon smiles. “Thanks. I’ll mention that in passing.”

“And your explanation about Oedipus in class was pretty amazing earlier,” Jinwoo adds, his dimple more pronounced with his wider smile.

Seunghoon’s heart leaps to his throat, and he prays that Jinwoo will never notice the flush creeping up his neck. “Thanks.”

-

“Your essay is looking good, hyung,” Minho comments as he reads through Seunghoon’s essay. “I’d say, Jinwoo’s a pretty cool guy, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is,” Seunghoon snatches his paper away. “And quit messing with my stuff, Minho. Don’t you have a painting to finish?”

“Well, it’s all done,” Minho tells him with a broad smile. “Not gonna let ya see it, though—except for Yoonie, maybe.”

“Yoonie, huh,” Seunghoon grins teasingly, punching Minho’s arm playfully. “We’re in that stage now, I see.”

Minho laughs, albeit shyly, then rolls his eyes. “Speak for yourself, hyung. Your mood’s getting better ever since you and Jinwoo started hanging out—and your fashion sense. You never dressed yourself like that before.”

“Shut up,” Seunghoon mutters, but he can’t deny the warmth blossoming from his chest.

-

After his last class, Seunghoon quickly hurries to Jinwoo’s room, which was a building away from his. He pleads to all the Greek and Norse deities that Jinwoo hadn’t left yet—or, if he had, Seunghoon might be able to spot him.

Thankfully, Jinwoo’s just about to leave his room when Seunghoon manages to set foot in the building. With quick strides he manages to catch Jinwoo’s arm—he’s wearing a loose sweater again, Seunghoon notes.

Pink sweater, this time.

“What the—oh, hey Seunghoon,” Jinwoo turns at him, his frown quickly melting into a smile as his eyes meet Seunghoon’s sweaty face. “Oh god, did you run all the way from here? What’s the rush?”

“Oh, yeah,” Seunghoon huffs, panting hard, with hands on his knees. He hasn’t run like this before ever since he quit the sprint team, and he isn’t sure if he’d ever felt this relieved—

He feels something soft pat against his face, and he opens his eyes.

It’s Jinwoo, wiping his perspiration with a fluffy blue towel, his eyes focused and a little worried.

“Sheesh, you’ll get sick at this rate,” Jinwoo mutters, worry now clear in his tone. “Catch your breath first, and tell me what’s bothering you. Need water?”

“N-no,” Seunghoon mumbles, unable to look at Jinwoo in shyness. Never, in his whole existence, did he have someone worry over him like this, probably with the exception of his mother and Minho (sometimes).

But having Jinwoo fret over him, with his angelic face near his—

“It’s—this,” Seunghoon finally says, straightening up and handing Jinwoo a ticket. “You mentioned about Mino’s paintings being amazing and all, and wanting to see at least a work of his. Minho gave me tickets—and, uh, I was wondering if—”

“Sure,” Jinwoo smiles sunnily at him, deer eyes sparkling and dimple showing, with a hint of a flush on his pale cheeks. Oh, Aphrodite. “When is it?”

“This Saturday,” Seunghoon says, a little breathless. “You free?”

“Yup,” Jinwoo nods enthusiastically, and Seunghoon can’t help wondering whether nymphs were real. Or if a Muse is literally standing right in front of him, all smiles and twinkle—

“Oh, okay,” Seunghoon can feel his own lips curl up into an excited smile. “I’ll meet you at that small diner near the venue, that good?”

“Okay,” Jinwoo smiles, and Seunghoon thinks that maybe, just maybe—

-

Even with that cream sweater with embroidery over a light blue polo, khaki jeans and white sneakers, Kim Jinwoo, still, is the most adorable person Seunghoon had ever seen. Especially with his large glasses a little lopsided.

“I see Minho’s more comfortable in painting surrealist and abstract ones,” Jinwoo notes, a hint of fondness on his tone. “I don’t see any realist paintings here. Or landscape sketches.”

“Minho’s kinda weird that way,” Seunghoon chuckles, fighting every urge to fix Jinwoo’s glasses or tuck that wayward lock of hair. “But it’s how his mind works—and it’s his personal signature, so to say.”

“Are you into paintings or art too, Seunghoon?” Jinwoo suddenly asks.

“No,” Seunghoon shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. “But if this counts as art—well, I’m actually into dance.”

Jinwoo lets out a laugh of disbelief. “Dance?”

Seunghoon laughs with him—he can’t blame Jinwoo’s reaction anyway. And he’s more surprised than Jinwoo, if he had to be honest, considering that he really wasn’t the type of person to share stuff like that easily.

“I know I kinda look lanky and uncoordinated, but I used to dance,” Seunghoon shares, smiling. “Well, I still do—but not so much now.”

Jinwoo blinks at him owlishly, as if he can’t digest that this tall man beside him really dances. “You have to prove that to me, Lee Seunghoon.”

Playfully, Seunghoon grabs Jinwoo’s nearest free hand and pulls him close to his body. With an arm around Jinwoo’s waist and the other clasped firmly on his hand, Seunghoon twirls them about with sure steps, careful not to jostle any painting or bump against any nearby person.

Seunghoon doesn’t notice the confused yet amused expressions of the persons present in Minho’s exhibition, or Minho’s wide grin as he watches them dance to the background music, Seungyoon beside him with a similar expression. 

All that registers in Seunghoon’s mind is how warm Jinwoo’s body is against his own, how he seemed to fit perfectly in his arms, and that delighted laughter from Jinwoo, with a rosy blush on his cheeks and starry, starry eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Jinwoo laughs breathlessly when Seunghoon stops, grinning mischievously at him. “You really are a dancer. Terpsichore must be proud of you.”

Seunghoon feels the heat spreading from his chest up to the tips of his ears. He doesn’t care. He likes it best when Jinwoo praises him even in the littlest of things.

“And you’re far more beautiful than any Muse,” Seunghoon says softly, not caring whether he sounded too greasy or cheesy. “Especially when you laugh.”

Jinwoo blinks at him in surprise at his words—then smiles the most beautiful smile Seunghoon had ever seen.

-

They spend more time with each other after that, either having lunch together or with Minho and Seungyoon; walking home together while chatting about useless and useful things; watching movies at either Jinwoo’s or Seunghoon’s apartment; eating outside sometimes at restaurants Seunghoon likes most; or just playing with Jinwoo’s cats or Seunghoon’s pet dog Haute.

But Seunghoon likes it best when Jinwoo falls asleep beside him on the couch, curled up against him, head against his chest.

And his sweater arms around his waist, keeping him warm.

-

“You know, our lives will be much easier if Zeus and Poseidon were just like Hades,” Seunghoon grumbles as he revises his last Greek essay for the semester. “Imagine the ease of listing down all the women they’d been involved with.”

Jinwoo chuckles. “Well, they have to have a quality to compensate for their glory—I’m guessing that the Greeks decided that having affairs with goddesses and humans was a good idea.”

“Hades somewhat gets all the bad stuff for being the Underworld god even when he doesn’t deserve them,” Seunghoon mutters. “Sure, he’s terrible, but—okay, he’s actually a favorite of mine.”

“Oh?” Jinwoo raises both eyebrows in mild surprise.

“Er, well,” Seunghoon starts awkwardly, feeling a little stupid, “I mean, it’s amazing that you get to be the king of everything or have awe-worthy powers and all that, but I don’t see the sense of it when you still feel lonely, anyway. That despite the glory of it all, you aren’t contented anyway, skipping from one person to another for a temporary happiness. That despite being looked upon by everyone…it feels like you’re still alone at the end of the day.”

Jinwoo blinks at him, obviously taken aback by his raw words. Seunghoon doesn’t know how or why he even said them out loud, revealing his inner thoughts in the guise of a reasoning why he liked Hades. Not to mention those were the thoughts he’d been trying to keep to himself—thoughts that not even Minho was aware of.

Maybe because it was Jinwoo, whose smile always manages to melt away the clouds in his heart, whose warmth was something he’d started to crave—

“Zeus and Poseidon aren’t exactly awful gods, but I get your point,” Jinwoo’s gentle voice yanks him away from his morose thoughts. “I guess Hades always thanked the lucky stars for Persephone.”

“And I’m always thankful I sat on the wrong seat that day,” Seunghoon finds himself saying out loud.

There’s a moment of awkward, tense silence—

—then—

Jinwoo scoots closer and kisses Seunghoon’s forehead, his sweater paws cupping his cheeks.

-

“By the way,” Jinwoo shares much later on, “I’m actually the one who sat on the wrong seat. No regrets, though.”

**Author's Note:**

> sorry—not sorry—for all the greek mythology references here, just google them ehehe  
yell at me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/cieruleaxxe)


End file.
